


Birds & Boats

by cxhztile



Series: Winding Roads Through Middle Earth [4]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Grey Havens, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Quest, Unresolved Emotional Tension, this is quite divergent from the canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 14:05:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17305997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxhztile/pseuds/cxhztile
Summary: Frodo leaving to the Undying Lands had more consequence than he initially imagined.(Title is from "Birds & Boats" by Gregory And The Hawk)





	Birds & Boats

**Author's Note:**

> Preamble things:  
> (1) since writing "You're My Whole World" i've read the lotr trilogy so hopefully this is better than my jest in that last fic  
> (2) this is mostly about sam so??? woops.   
> (3) this is hella canon divergent cause cas [me] said fuck canon

Well. That hadn’t gone as smoothly as he expected. 

_ They were camped in the Green Hills, on their way to visit Bilbo in Rivendell. Sam was silently reminiscing about past memories, too tuned out to hear Frodo’s soft singing, when he was startled by a loud response to the song.  _

_ ‘ _ **_A! Elbereth Gilthoniel!_ **

**_Silivren penna miriel_ **

**_o menel aglar elenath,_ **

**_Gilthoniel, A! Elbereth!_ **

**_We still remember, we who dwell_ **

**_In this far land beneath the trees_ **

**_The starlight on the Western Seas.’_ ** _ arose among the approaching Elven-travellers. They were composed of Gildor and others unnamed, as well as Elrond and Galadriel, both bearing beautiful glistening rings. _ **_Riding slowly behind on a small grey pony, and seeming to nod in his sleep, was Bilbo himself._ **

**_Elrond greeted them gravely and graciously and Galadriel smiled upon them. ‘Well, Master Samwise,’ she said. ‘I hear and see that you have used my gift well. The Shireshall now be more than ever blessed and beloved.’ Sam bowed, but found nothing to say. He had forgotten how beautiful the Lady was._ **

**_Then Bilbo woke up and opened his eyes. ‘Hullo, Frodo!’ he said. ‘Well, I have passed the Old Took today! So that’s settled. And now I think I am quite ready to go on another journey. Are you coming?’_ **

**_‘Yes, I am coming,’ said Frodo. ‘The Ring-bearers should go together.’_ **

**_‘Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood what was happening._ **

**_‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo._ **

**_‘And I can’t come.’_ **

**_‘No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.’_ **

**_‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.’_ **

**_‘So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you._ ** _ And you have so many around you to care about and be cared by.  _ **_Your hands and your wits will be needed everywhere. You will be the Mayor, of course, as long as you want to be, and the most famous gardener in history; and you will read things out of the Red Book, and keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more. And that will keep you as busy and as happy as anyone can be, as long as your part of the Story goes on._ ** _ ’ _

Through trying to keep his composure, Sam asked to have a moment to himself to catch some air before they rode on, sadness already stinging the atmosphere. It had pained frodo to see him so worked up but he allowed it anyway. He knew Sam understood the utility of the situation, the needs of the many outweighing the needs of the few or the one. Yet, he personally recognized that his leaving, regardless of the reasoning, would leave Sam grief-stricken. He stood wishing under his breath for a moment that Sam had gone through with a far-off younger daydream and actually married Rosie Cotton so he’d at least have her and maybe a few babes to comfort him upon arriving home. That wasn’t the case, however, and so he set off to find Sam, not bothering to gather up their belongings just yet. 

Sam, on the other hand, had walked a little ways through the trees before finding one facing towards a small circular niche that had no tree in its ten-foot diameter. Its bare grass would be a perfect spot to chuck the meager object he held in his breast pocket if he actually went through with the idea. He sat down at the tree’s base with a soft sigh and brought his knees to his chest, folding his arms atop them and resting his chin there also. He took the item from his pocket and twirled it in his hand under the pale moonlight for a moment before reeling back and actually throwing it. 

It was on the recoil that he heard an accidental leaf crunch and turned to see Frodo watching him. Frodo had wondered if he’d still see the grey shimmer of wetness in Sam’s eyes but in fact, it seemed the tears were stuck in his lashes. He came closer and plopped down beside Sam, noting later to see what was thrown. They sat quiet for a few minutes until Sam spoke at length.

“You’re going where I can’t follow -  _ again _ ,” he sighed. “It upsets me but there ain’t nothing much I can do about it. You’ve already decided to go through with it and besides. Even though I bore the ring for that short amount of time, I doubt they’d want a lowly gardener in the Undying Lands anyhow.” He finished the additional comment with a sullen chuckle, despite the self blow at his character. 

Frodo was more important to Sam than either realized and it left Frodo at a loss of words so he settled for patting Sam’s closest hand to him and giving it a light squeeze. Sam offered a weak smile before wiping his eyes on his sleeve and stating he was going to pack their stuff back up so they could join the others. Frodo just nodded with a feeble smile of his own and stayed put for a second as Sam got up and turned heel. With Sam out of site, he got to his feet and shuffled in the open grass to find the little thing, careful not to tarry too long. 

Sam had a good throwing arm but had seemed to hold back this time as the small object barely made it past the halfway mark of the circle. He caught a blinding glimmer from it and picked it up to hold in his hand. It was a ring of silver banding, a bit rough from age and use but seemingly recently polished. Frodo hadn’t dared to even touch or wear a ring since the destruction of the Ring of Power but now he was pushing his luck by holding this one.

Upon inspection, an inscription carved in the inner band could be read;  _ H.’R’.G _ with a heart beside the initials. From the looks of it, it seemed to be the wedding ring Sam’s grandfather, Hobson ‘Roper’ Gamgee, was given by his wife on their wedding day. It could only be presumed that Sam snuck it out from under the Gaffer’s attentive eye as the old Hobbit was fond of looking it over from time to time as an ode to his father, who died a year after the youngest Gamgee, Marigold, was born. 

He pondered for a moment why Sam would go through the trouble of nabbing it until it struck it. There was a fairly large possibility that Sam had planned to offer the ring to him in a heartfelt way, expecting they could go peacefully back to Bag End after seeing Bilbo. Oh, how he cursed the heavens that they weren’t born into a better age and into a more accepting society where that plan would have went over smoothly if brought to task. He could only pray that in another life or another universe they could actually be happy together and live to their heart's’ content. 

Pocketing the ring, he huffed loudly and tried to hide the pity in his eyes as he readied to return to the group. He longed to contrive a decent plan to show his affections before passing over into the havens. Everyone flashed him a wry smile when he reappeared but not much talking was done on the journey over. It was ample time to formulate something but he didn’t come up with much of anything and even the meager thing he decided upon probably wouldn’t be enough to convey everything. 

They finally came across to Mithlond where they were greeted by Cirdan the shipwright and led them to the Havens, where the ship lie and Gandalf, robed in glittering white, sat upon his horse. The ones that would be seen off were glad he was taking the journey with them.

**But Sam was now sorrowful at heart, and it seemed to him that if the parting would be bitter, more grievous still would be the long road home. But even as they stood there, and the Elves were going aboard, and all was being made ready to depart, up rode Merry and Pippin in great haste. And amid his tears Pippin laughed.**

**‘You tried to give us the slip once before and failed, Frodo,’ he said. ‘This time you have nearly succeeded, but you have failed again. It was not Sam, though, that gave you away this time, but Gandalf himself!’**

**‘Yes,’ said Gandalf; ‘for it will be better to ride back three together than one alone Well, here at last, dear friends, on the shores of the Sea comes the end of our fellowship in Middle-earth. Go in peace! I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.’**

Frodo stepped forward away from the ship to kiss both Merry and Pippin on the forehead, as best he could with their added heights, and embrace them together, all eyes in the hug being quite damp. Finally, he released them and made his way to Sam, whose eyes were welled with puffy tears again. Frodo kissed his forehead as well and caught him by the hand when he moved to step back with the others. He held it in one hand as the other fished for the ring to slip onto Sam’s ring finger. It was certainly short of a marriage of any type but at least it wasn’t being departed in death, especially with the probability of Sam getting in later in his life. 

Frodo then gingerly kissed his lips, delicately holding his cheeks, and more tears were jerked as they pressed their foreheads together after they broke apart. They lingered for a minute before Frodo was beckoned and had to make his way to the ship. Had he not gone through so much trauma and felt so out of place being back home, he would have made a cliche second consideration but reminded himself of the good he was trying to achieve by making this choice. He made his way up the threshold and only looked out from the ashy wisps of cloud when he reached the top. 

**And the ship went out into the High Sea and passed on into the West, until t last on a night of rain Frodo smelled a sweet fragrance on the air and heard the sound of singing that came over the water. And then it seemed to him that as in his dream in the house of Bombadil, the grey rain-curtain turned all into silver glass and was rolled back, and he beheld white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise.**

**But to Sam the evening deepened to darkness as he stood at the Haven; and as he looked at the grey sea he saw only a shadow on the waters that was soon lost in the West. There still he stood far into the night, hearing only the sigh and murmur of the waves on the shores of Middle-earth, and the sound of them sank deep into his heart. Beside him stood Merry and Pippin, and they were silent.**

The two of them hadn’t been there to watch the horror of going into Mordor and being by the cracks of Mount Doom but they noticed the fondness in the voices of Sam and Frodo as they recalled the stories. One could only imagine the strength in their bond and the joy of their close companionship. Though, it was a shame neither had the gut to admit their feelings for one another, forcing everyone else to keep their mouths shut and only roll their eyes. But now, they knew it wasn’t time to point such things out and instead encircled him in a joint effort for a moment before convincing to finally take leave. 

Sam solemnly nodded and said nothing the entire ride back to the borders of the Shire. His eye was more focused on the faint gleam of the ring slid on his finger, barely glancing up to check their path. Merry and Pippin shot each other pitying and sympathetic gazes from over where his head was hung. Before their paths diverged, Sam taking the road near Bywater and Merry and Pippin on their way back to Buckland, they patted him on the back and promised to visit him soon to make sure he had rotted shut in Bag End alone. He choked out a frail laugh and thanked them for coming at all, since he hadn’t been the conspirator this time. 

When they parted, Merry and Pippin had already grown back into their cheery shells and were singing their entire way to Brandy Hall. Of course, here and there they remarked how bad they felt for poor old Sam but knew there wasn’t much of anything anyone could do. Of course, it was unbeknownst to Sam and he went silently through Bywater and up the hill. He stabled his pony and wearily stood outside the parakeet green door, digesting all that had happened. 

For a moment, he had a vision of a yellow light peaking out of the windows from an ablazed fire and a warm dinner set on the table, made fresh by a caring wife who would sit their soft child on his lap when he came in. He shook his head to disperse it and undid the lock, coming into a cold smial with no fire or cooking meal. He made supper for one, even though it wasn’t much since he didn’t have the appetite to stomach much in that moment. It was only a quickly thrown together vegetable stew and poured himself out just enough that he imagined he could eat right then, saving the vast majority and setting it in the cold pantry. 

It was when he sat down that he belatedly scanned the emptied home as far as his eye could see. It was just him and the ghastly thoughts of tales heard in his youth; the phantoms of Belladonna and Bungo Baggins with their young son merging into the silhouettes of thirteen Dwarves scarfing down all of the contents of Bilbo’s pantry, and eventually becoming just simply old Bilbo and a younger Frodo. He had long since run out of tears to flow from his eyes and took the disheartening and chilling feel head first. 

Then, he played with his stew for a moment and drew a deep breath before saying aloud, “ **Well, I’m back.** ”

* * *

For the next entire week, he barely slept a wink. It was partially the aura of Bag End haunting him and reminding him he was alone but also the fear that his horrific dreams would plague him again. Undoubtedly, the ones that Frodo had experienced were worse and more core shaking but Sam’s were just nearly as bad. Memories of the Mount Doom’s fire, the worry Gollum would strangle them in their sleep, and an overwhelming fear that Frodo would die or fully give into the ring’s terrors all manifested into a macabre stew of awful nightmares. When Frodo was still in the Shire, they often took solace in each other’s company, even if no words were spoken. 

As predicted, anytime he succumbed to sleep he was once again subjected to the terrible biddings of his subconscious. For about a year or two, he often turned to reading the Red Book to take his mind off the eerily realistic images produced and eventually fall into a stale water of dreamless sleep for a few hours, only to wake up and have work to do. As years passed, the night terrors reduced significantly but nonetheless ran a shiver down his spine whenever he thought of them. 

He kept himself busy by typically tending to Bag End’s garden, growing herbs and seasonal fruits and vegetables to be used in his cooking or baking. The freshness from picking rosemary or basil lingered in dishes and made them all the while better. It was a shame Frodo and Bilbo nor any other of their high-end companions would be able to taste the meals as well but he often stopped those thoughts while he was ahead. Besides the edibles, there were plenty of beautiful flowers blossoming; peonies, aster, irises, and all other sorts that were fond of the open air sunshine that beamed on them from where they sat on the hill. 

At least once a week, he saw to the progress of the trees he planted around the Shire and made sure Galadriel’s soil from Lothlorien was still working its magic ( _ literally _ ). To his near surprise, they were growing fairer than any other had in their place and were quite strong, even as saplings. It certainly made his job a bit easier. And since the trees were growing much to his content, he began to lend himself out to help those with plant troubles due to a lack of a green thumb or just basic gardening work. When Frodo said he’d be the most famous gardener in the Shire, he hadn’t really expected it to come true. 

He kept all the gardening jobs very steady for a handful of years until he became a nominee and was elected at the Free Fair to be the next mayor as frodo, once again, correctly foresaw. To hold true to his departed companion’s word, he graciously accepted, nobody then realizing that they’d want him in office for six more terms after the first seven years. At first he worried about his garden at home being under attended when he would have to make runs between Hobbiton and Michel Delving but everyone reassured him it would be quite alright. It was a bigger fright when in S.R. 1434, King Aragorn appointed the Mayor, the Thain, and the Master of Buckland to be counsellors for the North-kingdom but the Cotton family told him they would have it covered and shooed him off to see Merry and Pippin, the current Master and Thain respectively. 

Speaking of the Cottons, they were still as pleasant of folk as ever. Rosie had at first been a bit impatient and hell-bent on expecting a marriage proposal from Sam, especially after he took off on a near lethal adventure and was thought dead for a short while. However, it was seeing how he acted with Frodo upon arriving back home that she reconsidered her insistence. She and Sam still remained good friends, as they had been since youth, but never married. However, she did find another Gamgee suited to her fancy; Marigold was originally being courted by Rosie’s brother Tom but, long story short, it seemed the lasses were far happier together, defying society’s grudge against same-sex couples. Seeing them together for the first time sent Sam into a daydream of what could have been and made him sigh, seeing what opportunities he missed out on. Regardless of his feelings about that, he was glad for them and the relation happened to strengthen the bonds between the families even further. In fact, Tom served as Deputy-Mayor for a short period while Sam was on leave in Gondor. 

Even before he began to set into an older age, Sam found himself telling the stories of the Red Book to any child who would listen. Typically during festivals or large parties, a group of youngsters would gather around to hear the tales, sometimes some of the children coming to several of the recountings, despite having already heard the story. Adults often hung around as well, catching bits and pieces. Some portions, of course, had to become more child-friendly when spoken but still conveyed at least the core of the event. Once enough of them had heard it at least once, they began telling their friends and younger siblings of the epic and acting it out among themselves in play. There had to have been hundreds of little ones pretending they were Samwise the Brave or Legolas Greenleaf throughout the years. 

Anytime he was visited by members of the fellowship who still resided in Middle-earth, he went out of his way to recall to them the amount of children acting as them and giving news on how mayorship was treating him. Merry and Pippin came most often, having the shortest distance to travel, but occasionally, Legolas and Gimli would stroll in, marvelled at by younger Hobbits, children and adults alike. Once time, Aragorn and Arwen thought it a good time to visit, as Aragorn had never really been past the borders of the Shire when he protected them as a Ranger, and all of Hobbiton was in a ruckus for nearly a month because a king and queen set foot into their simple little land just to see the silly old gardener turned Mayor and storyteller. Sam was quite amused watching the heads turn and hearing the chorus of gasps along the road. 

Frodo was right when he envisioned Sam would have a busy future. Busy, surely, but far lonelier than anticipated. Not to say he didn’t enjoy having company over or getting a warm welcome when tending to matters, plant or Shire-related. He was always grateful for those but it wasn’t the same. His heart longed for what could only be equivalent to what dwarves consider their One. He found that he stared at the silver band upon his finger in times of quiet and twisted it round his finger when he got nervous. It was miraculous he kept his composure whenever he looked towards it as his mind was flooding with memories of the good times and the bad, never failing to repeat each time. There was a longing in his soul that couldn’t be fed, not in this worldly realm. But he knew it was still far too years off before the hole could be filled so he occupied his hands and wits to avoid a downward spiral. 

It wasn’t until S.R. 1482 that he caved in and did anything about the void gaping in his chest. Rosie passed away that year, leaving Marigold a bit hopeless and turning to her brother for consolation. He was only three years her senior but certainly all the more wiser and had technically lost someone who meant so much to him. He could only laugh and tell her not to worry her pretty head. It was part way through her visit that he felt a burning ache in his bones, not associated with the arthritis that had set in just as it had with the Gaffer. Marigold caught him staring quietly at the fire they sat by and he looked up as she sighed. 

“It don’t do you much to sit around here when you could go get him, you know.” She chuckled, squeezing his arm a bit. He kept his gaze up and finally offered a simple smile, eyes beginning to dampen. 

“Go on, Samwise!,” Marigold insisted. “I’ll get your affairs in order just fine. Just be off like old Bilbo before Da rolls in his grave.” Sam let out a hearty laugh at this and rose from his armchair as swiftly as his old age would allow. He wasn’t going to need much once he crossed the Havens but he knew all the while that he had piles of small drafted letters of all sorts he had written over the years and wanted Frodo to read when he arrived. Some were poetry, some were simple love letters or rambles about emotions he couldn’t express. 

Any and all of them that he had remembered he had started he put into his pack and grabbed a blanket, bedroll, and food, knowing it would take little over a day to arrive at the port. He hadn’t felt this amount of pure glee in who knows how long and it made him feel all the younger. It was a minute worry that Frodo would find distaste in his aged state but he couldn’t change the sands of time so he put the thought out of his mind. It was pushing his luck that he could even pass through the Havens at all, given the short amount of time he held the ring, but his passion and excitement was prevailing over that concern in that moment. 

Marigold sat in the living room, finishing her tea as she waited for him to reappear. When he verged, pack slung on his back like he was a young Hobbit once more, he haphazardly scanned to make sure he had everything he was going to need. Nervous to leave anything he wanted to show the others who had passed, he absently twirled the ring upon his finger as he ran through a mental list. 

His sister then caught him by the arm and began to lead him to the door, not allowing him the chance to ponder this life decision. He drew a deep breath as they stared out the open door, taking in one of his last sights of the Shire in late afternoon. Marigold patted his back and so he embraced her one last time in response. 

“I will miss you, you know. Eru probably could have given me a better sister but you worked just fine.” He teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Now go be happy for once, ya ninnyhammer. You deserve it after all you’ve done ‘round here in your life. Be careful, don’t get eaten by wolves.” She light-heartedly replied, giving him a ginger shove out the door. He savored those last few steps in Bag End’s front lawn as he made way to the stable to collect a suitable pony. He rode straight-forward to the Green Hills, stopping for a rest and meager wager of a supper. 

The pony, nicknamed Buttercup relished in the stop, picking at the grass near where Sam was sat taking a few puffs of his pipe. He wasn’t quite sure if he’d take another smoke off it before coming onto the ship and the thought of the ship at all was twisting his nerves so it was a well earned smoke. He was once again on the thought if his time as Ring-bearer would suffice to let him cross and prayed the entire ride over to the port that Cirdan and the heavens would have mercy on him. 

Upon arriving at the port, still as shrouded in grey cloud wisps as ever, he wished to himself that Merry and Pippin would come up and stop him or at least see him off, despite encountering the same delay of old age themselves. Two riders going back home together would be more comforting than none returning at all. But, he couldn’t wish this grievous and foolish attempt on anyone other than himself. 

When Cirdan the shipwright came forth, he had to admit he was a bit surprised. Another Hobbit seeking passage, sixty years after the first two passed through with a company of Elves and a wizard. But he caught a glimmer in the old Hobbit’s eye and saw the aura floating about him. He had nobody to vouch for him being a minor Ring-bearer or being Samwise the Brave at all, and yet Cirdan simply knew it was the same soul who was far too sorrowful many years before. 

Though passage was usually planned in advanced, he figured he could allow this one exception, especially based on the emotions being exuded from the Hobbit. Cirdan beckoned him silently and offered assistance climbing up, making sure he was comfort in the seat he chose close to the edge of the boat. With a simple nod, they were off. 

There was a light mist that didn’t dare breach the surface of the water and a glorious golden sky above dotted with few soft clouds. On the continent before them, there was a luscious green landscape with beautiful buildings that twinkled in the sunlight. People, though looking nothing more than shapes at that distance, were basking upon the beach and enjoying one another’s company in the soft grasses or atop smooth rocks at the shoreline. On one of these said rocks, there was a man in a glistening white robe, stroking his snow white beard as he contemplated something his companion just told him. 

The companion was significantly smaller, with dark hair in the form of messy curls. There was something clinging to his feet which Sam made out to be hair upon further inspection. His heart began to soar as he recognized the figures and desperately hoped they could somehow see it was him. As the ship drew nearer, the smaller figure convinced their accomplice to follow and investigate the newcomer. Sam stood, rocking a bit as he caught his balance, and fell in love all over again as he came face to face with the short finger, who appeared more youthful than he had seen in a long while. 

“Frodo…” was all he could choke out as he readied to step up onto the boat’s rim and cross onto the paved pier. Frodo’s face lit up at the site and his stepped back to allow Sam to come into his open arms. As Sam cautiously came onto the dock, years melted away and he was rejuvenated to a younger, more happy time, presumably when he had a hold on the ring. He graciously accepted Frodo’s embrace and their forehead pressed together as they grinned ear to ear. 

Sam now had his star back and nothing could take it from his grasp again. 

**Author's Note:**

> "birds & boats" is a very samfro song so!! i figured i'd name this sad shit after that. also all of the bolded words are what i took from the book but don't worry! i made a citation so my fbi man doesn't kill me:  
> Tolkien, J. R. R. "The Grey Havens." Return of the King, by J. R. R. Tolkien, vol. 3, Del Rey/Ballantine Books, 2012, pp. 336-340. Lord Of The Rings  
> feel free to yell at me for this in the comments!!


End file.
